


epilogue

by l_e_crivainsolitaire



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Epilogue, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9498017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_e_crivainsolitaire/pseuds/l_e_crivainsolitaire
Summary: Jin and Fuu sit down for a chat after twenty seven years.





	1. part one. scar.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and uploaded it to ff under bidadieu (which I don't use anymore). I decided to upload it here after editing it properly.

In that moment, silence took over the world and her heart pounded in her chest. There was a moment of hesitation, but she knew. Dropping the bucket of water, she ran to him, her arms spread out reaching for an embrace. All things be damned, if he didn't accept it.

But he didn't hesitate, his own arms spread open.

"It's been a long time Fuu," the tall man said, adjusting his glasses just so. Fuu stepped away from the embrace and studied Jin's face. A sadness washed over her. Drooped shoulders, tired eyes—he was withered.

Then, she noticed the light scar on his cheek. She raised her hand to touch it, half expecting Jin to move or slap her hand away. He didn't.

"What happened?" she ran her thumb across the scar again.

Jin shook his head, "god or something like that," he gave her a small smile, "he thought I was too good looking.”

It was an attempt at a joke, Fuu knew, but she couldn't manage more than a nervous giggle.

"Do you want to come in," she asked him instead, "I just finished cooking lunch; I don't think my son will be coming home until late at night though.”

"A son." Jin said, more question than comment.

"Like you said… god, or something like that." Fuu smiled. “I guess he thought I needed a kid.” She ushered him into her home and sat him down. 

"Nice place." He settled himself, slouching a bit as he sat. It was strange to see him disheveled, even just a bit. Fuu disappeared into the kitchen and quickly came back with tea cups and a teapot.

"If you don't mind me asking, where is your husband?” Jin watched her pour the tea. She stopped, her smile disappearing for a split second.

She knew he saw it, and immediately, he retracted his question, "you don't have to say anything."

Fuu continued to serve him, scooping rice into a bowl and topping it with fish. "It's alright," she sighed, sitting across from him. "My husband died two years ago from an illness...but my son and I were prepared. He was already old and there wasn't much that we could do."

"I’m sorry.” Jin said, “I’ll pay my respects before I go.”

Fuu smiled, “he would like that. Thank you.”

A silence bloomed between the two of them; it was neither awkward nor comfortable. Fuu just enjoyed staring at him. It's been too long—far too long. When the three of them split up that fateful day, it was like a family going different ways. In some way, she missed the silent wisdom that Jin embodied. Fuu's heart felt full just seeing him again after twenty seven years, but it made her yearn to see Mugen too.

So she asked, "how is Mugen?" The question was innocent enough, but when Jin looked at her, she already knew.

"Did you really expect him to live that long?"


	2. part two. silence.

Fuu couldn't help but give a small sad smile. Her younger self might have stood up, knocking over the tea and crashing the plates. She might even have yelled at Jin, telling him that he was lying. What didn't change were the tears that pooled in her eyes. Losing someone was always hard.

"How are you dealing with it," Fuu asked, wiping her tears away.

"I'm alright…but I didn't expect you to take the news so well." Carefully choosing his words, he continued, "I always thought you had a deeper bond with him."

Fuu's eyes widened in surprise, but knew what he meant. "Not at all." Fuu replied, after a second of hesitation she regretted.

"Is that so?" Jin stared at her, focusing on that hesitation. Another silence hung between them--a heavier one, eating away at all the things unsaid. Perhaps it's all the time they've spent together, or their age, but their silences between conversation seemed to say a lot more. Fuu wouldn't say it out loud, but she can earnestly covey it.  _I'm sorry for picking Mugen every time. Especially_ that  _time._ She should have told Sara no. 

"Your heart is too kind," Jin suddenly said, as if he heard her thoughts. "You try to help everyone too much." 

Now it was her turn to stare. "Is that so?" She throws his own words at her, smiling as she drank her tea. "I thought we were going separate ways for sure that time...with Sara."

"We've had so many of those," Jin laughed suddenly. Fuu decided it was strange to hear him laugh, but it was not a bad look. ""It's a little sad though," Jin continued, "that after all this time, and it's...incomplete."

The room was silent again--the sound of cicadas growing even louder. Even then, it was always like this. The nights that the three spent together was always in silence, but something about it was comforting. It didn't feel so alone.

"You know what's interesting?" Jin said quietly, "I didn't even plan on seeing you here."

"I think it's good to know, that our roads always lead to one place." Fuu said, she was a little hesitant, but she had to know. "So how did he die?"

Jin chuckled, shifting his weight to his other leg. "It's a simple story."

Fuu braced herself, ready to fill a twenty seven year gap of silence.


	3. part three. mugen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to Force of Nature's "The Million Way of Drum" as you read.

Mugen wasn't always a vagrant, but it's all he could remember. It's all he expected.

Then, he walks into the tea house--all bravado and the skill to prove it. That loud-mouthed waitress, screaming (that pink kimono is nasty--but he catches himself looking for it) her head off, then that piece of shit glasses-wearing freak walks in--much like he did, all the bravado with the skill to prove it.

And Mugen became undone--thread plucked from fabric, unspooling with lazy attempts to hold on. Because  _this_ was home now. Wasn't it? A pink waitress and a blue ronin. He would laugh at himself for years. It's so stupid. How could a person like  _him_ find a home?

But that was his reality.

* * *

Mugen told himself as he walked away from the clearing: Turn back.

He ignored it.

Who wants to look like a loser? Because inside, Mugen was like a kid--is still a kid.

Turn back or you'll regret it forever, it nagged.

And fuck it all, because he was like a kid, Mugen turned back. He had never ran so fast, he could feel the pain shoot up his calf every time his foot connected with the ground. Faster and faster and faster and faster. His breath was caught in his throat, his heart beating so loudly it was a million way of drum.

The clearing! Just in front of him--he burst out . Large grin on his face--and he's laughing so much. 

Mugen stood alone, taking large gulps of air. And his heart felt so heavy. Maybe Mugen was a kid after all--because he thought it was a good thing they didn't see him. But he knew. It was there in the pit of his stomach, stirring and creeping--rising up until--! He vomited on his feet. He had never felt so disappointed, embarrassed, and betrayed. Who said it was okay for them to leave?

Mugen wasn't always a vagrant. But it was all he could ever be.

He wasn't the type to quit. He continued. Walking, moving, fighting, he did it all. And he hated every moment of it. And forgot--because who wants to look like a loser? Still, he looked behind his shoulder at times, hoping that someone would look back. Whatever did were strangers.

* * *

Mugen lost an arm.

A flash of pink and--there was so much blood. He recovered so quickly. Learned to fight without it so quickly--because remember, he's all bravado and skill.

 _Hopefully, I won't be so lucky next time._ The thought was fleeting, because he felt so disgusted.

_What would they think of me?_

Then the next thought, so painful: Why would they care? You're all alone.

* * *

Mugen was in a state of delirium. He was so tired.

 _Fuu, save us_ , he remembered thinking. Bound, gagged and displayed for a just execution. He chastised himself when he muttered, "we can take them." Jin isn't here. Neither is Fuu. Mugen turned red--embarrassed and bewildered. _How the fuck had I been living all these years before--!_

The gag was taken of and he's asked, "last words?" 

Because Mugen was all bravado and skill: "Fuck off." 

He escaped cleanly. It was easy. But goddamn it, he was so tired.

* * *

"No fucking way." 

Blue.

"No  _fucking_ way."

Glasses.

"Fuck."

Sword.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Jin.

 

 


	4. part four. jin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to Fat Jon's "Stay" as you read.

 

Boiling water.

That's what it was. 

There was a vigor--an energy that grabbed Jin by his arms and made him draw his sword. He met Mugen in the middle--blades clashing with that beautiful sound, he could dance to it!

"Long time no see." 

"Fuck yeah."

* * *

The spar was a dance. A rhythm that ebbed and flowed--a continuation of a story long forgotten and it was so beautiful but incomplete. 

Mugen was faster--stronger, and stranger than ever before. Jin knew Mugen always enjoyed the fight, but he was laughing so much it was infectious. Soon they looked like idiots. Laughing and fighting at the same time.

Mugen was heating up. 

Jin came to a rolling boil.

If only Fuu were here to make tea and douse the fire. 

* * *

It was muscle injected with lead and sunk into the middle of the ocean. 

"What happens after you die?" Another comment in passing, but Jin saw the tremor in Mugen's hand. 

Jin had never been crueler, "nothing. You don't move. You stay where you are." 

Mugen nodded, a dim smile lingering on his lips. "A permanent home, huh?" 

"Yes."

"I'm tired." Mugen sighed--all the implications were there.

"Stay." JIn heard the desperation in his own voice. 

But the decision has been made. Jin had never been kinder.

Mugen's sword moved thrice:

One. The beautiful sound of clashing blades.

Two. A slice to a pale face--lip bleeding.

Three. The bounce it made as it fell to the ground.

Jin's sword moved thrice:

One. The beautiful sound of clashing blades.

Two. The familiar feeling of steel piercing in and out of tired flesh.

Three. The bounce it made as it fell to the ground.

 


	5. part five. fuu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to Midicronica's' "San Francisco" as you read.

She wrote down what she could remember--even those that seemed insignificant. She wrote down every detail she could recall. She let her stories and memories bloom and face the sun. Everything was exposed and she didn't care. Let the world know their stories. Let the world know their lives. It was the most important and precious gift she could give and the world will accept it. 

She remembered when the two came barging into the tea house--all bravado with the skill to prove it. She remembered the coin. She remembered the warning against jars. She remembered the baseball game. She remembered the letter "no." She remembered the day they let anyone through the borders. She remembered Sara. She remembered the clearing on the field. She remembered how they keep walking, sleeping, moving.

She remembered the first time she saw Jin after twenty seven years, a scar on his face, a fragility in him. She remembered his story--how Mugen died. She remembered how Jin took his leave, giving her one last hug before disappearing into a crowd of strangers, never to be heard from again. She remembered how her son ran to her one morning, with news that Jin has passed away somewhere in the mountains--his own sword thrust into his heart. She remembered wondering if JIn had come to her with the intention of asking her to kill him, only to realize she would say no the last minute. 

She remembered their faces and burned it into her mind. She remembered that Mugen could burn and Jin could drown.

She remembers and she picks up the pieces--all tattered and broken. She fixes it with gold, shining in the sunlight for the world to see. It all fits like a puzzle, and with one last breath, everything seemed to be in place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I greatly appreciate any iota of attention this fic got. Samurai Champloo is my favorite series ever. From the music, to the plot, to the characters...it has dug a hole in my heart and made a home there. This truly was a labor of love.
> 
> If you would stay for a moment longer, here were some thoughts I had whilst writing this:
> 
> 1\. When the series ended, it was perfect and beautiful--but I had to ask myself, wouldn't their stories re-intertwine at some point? There is no denying that each of them had their own stories--but they always connected. It gave me the thought to write an epilogue. 
> 
> 2\. The music of Samurai Champloo was what really hooked me in the first place. When I see Samurai Champloo--I always think of the music and how moving the music is. I just HAD to include it into the story. I didn't want to go overboard and so I ended up picking three songs that I felt embodied the feeling and the rhythm of each character. I picked "The Million Way of Drum" for Mugen because it's energetic--somewhat childish in nature and a bit impulsive. For Jin, I chose "Stay." I think there is a somberness and a heaviness in the song that Jin embodies. He's the oldest, the "wisest," and who I believed was the strongest character to be able to handle seeing both Mugen and Fuu again. Lastly, I chose "San Francisco" for Fuu because it has a hopeful bounce--almost accepting and lingering--showing how Fuu is the true epilogue. (I had a really hard time deciding which song to do for Fuu. I wanted to choose from the original ending songs, all had the feel, but not the rhythm). Also, I hope you noticed it, but for the last three chapters, part of the songs have been written into the chapters--whether it be song lyrics or the title itself. 
> 
> 3\. If you noticed, the feel was different between part one/two and three/four/five. When I originally wrote this, it was a lot more fluid--but Samurai Champloo had this rhythm and raggedness that I wanted to try and embody. Almost like a record skipping or scratching--it was the sort of feel when writing the last three chapters, each still having their own flavor--if you will. For example, with Mugen, it's a lot more disjointed and each part started with a clear sense of where Mugen was at. "Mugen wasn't a vagrant," "Mugen lost an arm," and "Mugen was in a state of delirium." Clear settings--no need to decipher. Still, the sentence structure isn't as fluid and a bit more up and down with the rhythm. Jin, on the other hand, starts off with some metaphors--stronger figurative language and a sense of poetry. Fuu's chapter (one can say the first two chapters are also hers) is a lot more finite. She narrates from a future.
> 
> 4\. Setting the story 27 years into the future is an ode to the 26 episode long series--this being the true and final 27th episode.
> 
> That's all. Thank you for sticking with me!


End file.
